


love me tender, love me true

by stillwaterseas (phoenixflight)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Break Up, Collars, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, bad at feelings, collaring, light lifestyle d/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/stillwaterseas
Summary: People made certain assumptions, looking at Damen - he was used to it. The broad shoulders, the height. He’d disappointed lovers in the past before he’d learned to make it clear that he liked someone else to take charge in bed.Sometimes Damen just wanted a break from the responsibility and pressure of his job and the rest of his life. He’d never really considered it as a lifestyle thing, except as an occasional jerk-off fantasy. He hadn’t expected to ever meet someone he trusted enough, who was compatible in that way. And then he’d met Laurent.





	love me tender, love me true

**Author's Note:**

> This fic fills the collaring square on my kink bingo card!  
> Big thanks to Kel for doing a sterling job beta'ing it, reassuring me about the emotional consistency, and constantly encouraging me to add more paragraph-breaks. Thanks, darling.  
> Casually dedicated to Elle, who remembered me starting this fic as a story time on discord _months_ ago and wanted to see it finished. Thanks for caring about my writing. T.T  
> Title from Elvis Presley's Love Me Tender

People made certain assumptions, looking at Damen - he was used to it. The broad shoulders, the height. He’d disappointed lovers in the past before he’d learned to make it clear that he liked someone else to take charge in bed. 

Sometimes Damen just wanted a break from the responsibility and pressure of his job and the rest of his life. He’d never really considered it as a lifestyle thing, except as an occasional jerk-off fantasy. He hadn’t expected to ever meet someone he trusted enough, who was compatible in that way. And then he’d met Laurent. 

He’d been bored with his usual spots, so he’d gone to a club on the far side of town, gotten a drink, settled at the bar to scope out the crowd. 

Damen spotted the blond man as he was trying to gently let down a redheaded twink who was definitely mistaken about the role Damen wanted to play in bed. The blond was leaning against the bar, watching them with a faintly amused expression. 

When he caught Damen’s eye he’d sauntered toward them, and spoke to the redhead. 

“Berenger let you out to play, Ancel?” 

“Fuck off, Laurent,” Redhead – Ancel – had said. “I was here first. You hog all the hot beef.” 

Laurent’s eyes had gleamed. “I’m just good at knowing who’s interested. Do you want to suck his cock?” 

For a moment Damen hadn’t been sure who Laurent  was speaking to, but he was still looking at Ancel, who sneered. 

“You’re not my master.”  

“Do you not want to play? Or are you just being a brat?” 

Ancel said nothing, his painted mouth set in a pout. 

“That’s what I thought. I’ll ask you again. Do you want to suck his cock?” 

Arms crossed, Ancel shifted on his feet, and then dropped his gaze and said, barely audible: “Yes.” 

“Hm?” 

“Yes, sir,” Ancel mumbled. 

“Good boy,” Laurent said. 

Damen felt his stomach flip, and cleared his throat. “Do I get a say in this?” 

Laurent turned to him for the first time. His eyes were some pale color, blue or gray. It was too dim to tell. “Do you want a say?” 

Feeling his heartbeat speed up, Damen had swallowed. “No, sir.” Laurent’s mouth curled into a satisfied grin. 

They retreated to one of the private alcoves and Laurent stood over them both giving precise, clinical instructions as Ancel knelt between Damen’s thighs and sucked him off. Damen didn’t think a blowjob could leave him feeling like his skin was turned inside out, but the soft sound of Laurent’s voice giving them both firm orders left him panting and shaking. 

Afterward, Laurent had dismissed Ancel with a flick of his fingers and looked at Damen, considering. “Do you think you can go again?” 

“Yes, sir,” Damen breathed, and Laurent climbed on top and rode him until he saw stars. When he could form sentences again, he had asked Laurent for his number. 

 

They weren’t dating. Not exactly. They hooked up regularly, the kind of hookups that included breakfast in the morning and texts during the day. He had a toothbrush at Laurent’s and Laurent had his fancy brand of peanut butter in Damen’s fridge. 

So okay, it was kind of like dating, but Damen had asked some mutual friends in the scene and everyone said the same thing – Laurent didn’t date. And Damen didn’t want to push it. He was having the best sex of his life and grinning stupidly at his phone when Laurent texted him. After a hard day at work, he would go over to Laurent’s place and sit on the floor at Laurent’s feet with his face pressed against Laurent’s thigh, just breathing, letting his mind empty. He didn’t want to mess that up. 

They’d been seeing each other a couple of months when Laurent brought the collar. He’d been adorably nervous about it, dropping the box on the bed between them one evening, and then refusing to look at Damen as he opened it. 

It was a gold band, about as thick as a pencil, hinged on one side, and with a small lock on the other. It would be snug enough to hide under the collars of his work shirts, and innocuous enough to be passed off as an ornament to someone who didn’t know what to look for. Damen’s heartbeat sped up. It was meant to be worn all the time. 

“Is this-” Damen began at the same time Laurent said, “Only if you want-” They had played with collars some before, but this felt bigger; more intimate and more dangerous. Damen was getting hard. 

He swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I want.” 

Laurent lifted the collar out of the box and shuffled across the bed to kneel between Damen’s thighs. “Tell me again,” he ordered, voice low. 

“Please put it on me, sir,” Damen whispered, and heard Laurent draw an unsteady breath. 

The cold metal against his throat made his cock twitch.  Laurent’s eyes were dark, pupils dilated. There was a tiny snick as the key turned. Damen breathed out hard; nervous and elated and painfully turned on. 

Laurent held up the tiny, ornamental key. “This is mine, unless you use your safeword.” Damen nodded, and crushed their mouths together. 

 

Damen was happier than he’d been in ages. The collar was a piece of Laurent that he carried around all the time. When they went out to clubs and scene parties together, people treated him differently. When work was particularly stressful, he would shut his office door and tug at the collar, just to feel it tighten against his throat, and it would make him feel a little calmer. 

Sometimes when they fucked, Laurent would slide his fingers under the collar and tug, and it never failed to make Damen come like a fireworks show. Other times, in bed or at the breakfast table, or passing behind Damen’s chair while he read the paper, Laurent would touch the collar gently, just a ghost of a touch across it, making Damen shiver. 

But now, Damen had a new problem – he was falling helplessly, stupidly in love with Laurent. Had been, in retrospect, from the first moment in the bar when Laurent had looked right through him with those blue eyes and known exactly what to say. 

And Laurent didn’t  _ do  _ relationships. But that was fine – what they had was working for them. Nothing needed to change. 

In hindsight, Damen should have known that wasn’t going to work forever. 

When everything fell apart, it was, like all the worst things in Damen’s life, because of the family business. His father had called him into his imposing office, given him a lecture on responsibility and growth that Damen had mostly tuned out – it was the same lecture he’d been getting since he was about 10 – and then announced that Damen would be transferred to the Isthmia office for 6 months to launch a new department. 

“Think of it as an opportunity,” his father had rumbled. “To prove your merit as future CEO. If you do well, we could extend your stay. You like the island.”

That evening, Laurent was sitting with a book, curled in his favorite armchair in Damen’s apartment when he got home. Damen let his bag fall from his hand, shrugged off his jacket and came to sit beside Laurent on the floor. 

“Hey.” Laurent looked down at him, the lamplight making his gold hair glow and his features soft. “Bad day?”

Damen nodded. 

“C’mere,” Laurent said.

Damen laid his head against Laurent’s thigh, and sighed as he felt Laurent’s fingers carding through his hair. He breathed in the familiar scent of Laurent’s laundry detergent and skin, feeling his shoulders slowly unknot as Laurent stroked his curls slowly. Damen let his eyes fall shut, not thinking. After a while, Laurent looked up from his book. “Better?”

Damen nodded silently, eyes still closed, and turned his nose toward Laurent’s hip, nuzzling toward his crotch. 

Laurent laughed softly. “Do you want something?” 

There was a rustle of fabric and a clink of metal as Laurent undid his belt and opened his pants. Damen leaned in and took Laurent’s cock in his mouth, and they both sighed in unison, Laurent’s fingers tightening in his hair. Damen hummed contentedly and took him deeper. 

“Good boy,” Laurent murmured, petting him, and Damen felt warm pleasure slide through his chest. He was hard, squirming and rolling his hips against nothing, but he didn’t touch himself. He hadn’t been given permission – he didn’t have to worry about it. 

When Laurent came with a low moan, Damen swallowed and rested his head against the inside of Laurent’s thigh, looking up at him. Laurent blinked his eyes open slowly and smiled, pushing the damp curls off Damen’s forehead. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Laurent murmured. 

In Damen’s room, they fucked hard, face to face with Laurent’s legs wrapped around Damen’s hips, urging him deeper. His fingers pressed into Damen’s back, short nails leaving marks as he arched almost silently under Damen. When Damen got close, Laurent slapped him on the hip and said, “Not yet.” 

Biting his lip, Damen got himself back under control – Laurent wasn’t finished with him. He couldn’t come yet, he still had a job to do.  

He fucked Laurent through his second orgasm, holding his own back by sheer will as Laurent shuddered and came between their stomachs. Finally Laurent slid his fingers under the metal collar, tugging it tight, and whispered, “Come for me,” and Damen did, seeing stars. He curled forward, groaning, and pressed his face against Laurent’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

Afterward, Laurent cleaned them up as usual, and then curled up beside him, snuggling under his arm. Damen let out a heavy breath and pulled Laurent close. 

“There’s still something wrong,” Laurent said softly. “Do you want to tell me about it?” 

Damen nodded, and then shook his head. “In the morning.” 

Laurent made a soft, agreeable noise in his throat, and brushed his lips over Damen’s forehead. Damen breathed in the smell of him, and let the heavy lethargy of orgasm and the comfort of Laurent against his side pull him down into sleep. 

 

They had the fight over the breakfast table, with clear sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows. 

“My father wants me to go to Isthmia,” Damen said, flipping the bacon with a fork. “To work on business there.” 

Laurent paused, holding a box of organic granola. “What did you tell him?” 

“You know I can’t say no to things like that. My father doesn’t ask, he tells.” Damen watched the bacon sizzle and curl as it browned. 

Slowly, Laurent resumed spooning granola into his yogurt. “So you’re going to Isthmia. For how long?” 

“Six months, he said. Maybe longer. As long as it takes to get the job done.” 

When Laurent didn’t respond, Damen glanced over with a frown, turning off the burner on the stove. Laurent was staring down at his bowl, expression closed off. “Laurent?” Damen asked. 

“Thank you for letting me know,” Laurent said, tone odd. 

“Of course.” Damen swallowed. “I don’t want to make any... demands of you. Or anything. Since we aren’t, you know. A couple, really.” 

“We’re not,” Laurent said, with a little hitch at the end. Damen looked over at him, unable to tell whether it was a question or a confirmation. Laurent was staring blankly at him. 

“I... didn’t think so,” Damen said, cautiously. 

“I guess not,” Laurent said, looking away. He set down the box of granola and rubbed his hands on his trousers. “This is it them.” 

Something icy poured into Damen’s stomach. “It... is?” 

Laurent shrugged, not looking at him. “Seems like it. You’re dad’s right – this is a great opportunity for you professionally. You should take it.”

“Right,” Damen said faintly. “So we’re... breaking up.” His voice cracked a little around the words. He could hardly believe they were coming out of his mouth. 

Laurent just nodded, face completely shuttered. 

“I...” Damen started. “I didn’t... didn’t think... didn’t want this to...” 

Laurent shook his head, holding up a hand. “It’s ok. I understand.”   _ I don’t _ , Damen wanted to yell, but Laurent said, “I should go.” 

“Laurent,” he began again, but the words died in his throat. Laurent stepped forward, and paused just out of arms length, as if he were thinking about saying something more, or reaching out – a painful parody of the moment before their normal kiss goodbye in the mornings. But then he swallowed and continued past Damen, toward the front door, leaving Damen in the kitchen, staring at an untouched bowl of yogurt, glowing white in the morning sun. 

 

Over the next few days, Damen threw himself into his work and ate too much ice cream. He didn’t have to leave for Isthmia for another two weeks, and wished it were sooner. At least then he’d have a distraction – a new place that wasn’t surrounded by reminders of Laurent. 

When he hadn’t worked himself to total exhaustion, he couldn’t stand to be in his empty apartment or sleep in his empty bed, so he spent a week crashing on Nikandros’ couch. 

“You’re spiraling,” Nik said on Saturday afternoon, picking up the remote and muting the TV. “I haven’t seen you like this since Jokaste.” 

Damen groaned and put a cushion over his face. “Leave me alone.” 

“No. This is an intervention.” Nikandros kicked at his legs until Damen drew his knees up enough that Nik could sit down. “If he doesn't want to keep seeing you while you work long distance, then it wasn’t that serious to him.” 

“I know.” Damen swallowed, throat painfully tight. “I knew that when I got into it. I just thought... it was stupid.” 

Nikandros’ mouth pulled down – it was a familiar expression, when Nik was trying to stop himself from agreeing  _ yeah it was stupid. _ What he finally said was, “You two got pretty intense for something  _ not serious. _ It’s not your fault for getting attached.” 

“Yeah.” Damen stared blankly at the TV, hardly seeing the game on screen. “I just need some time to get over him.” The words sounded hollow to his own ears. 

“Get over him,” Nikandros said flatly. “Uh-huh. So why are you still wearing that thing he gave you?” 

“This?” Damen touched the collar self-consciously, cheeks heating. The metal was warm to the touch against his skin. “I can’t take it off.” 

Nikandros looked at him dubiously. “Is this a sex thing or a feelings thing?” 

“...Both?” Damen put his hands over his face. The lock mechanism was a simple allen key. Any hardware store carried them. But the thought of taking it off himself made him feel vaguely sick and deeply anxious. The thought of leaving for Isthmia with it still on was equally unbearable. He hid his face in the pillow again, struggling to breathe. 

At the other end of the couch, he heard Nikandros sigh. “Would you just... deal with this? Please. For me.” 

“Yeah,” Damen said, muffled into the pillow. “Sure. No problem.” 

 

Damen got as far as the parking lot of a hardware store during his lunch break the next day before stalling out. He sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel, and telling himself to grow the fuck up. He left for Isthmia in four days – he was running out of time to deal with this, not to mention he was such a mess he hadn’t even started packing yet. 

Thinking about taking the collar off himself felt so wrong it made his hands shake. What the hell was wrong with him? Finally, he pulled out his phone and texted Nik –  _ going to see Laurent and sort stuff out. _ He took a deep breath to steady himself as he hit  **send** _. _

His phone chimed with Nik’s response.  _ Thank god. Take care of yourself, ok?  _

He tossed the phone on the passenger seat without replying, and started the car. 

When Laurent opened the door to his apartment he looked surprised – there was a flash of something else, almost hurt, in his eyes before he schooled his expression into neutrality. “Damen,” he said, cool and wary. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hey.” Damen rubbed the back of his neck nervously, which made the collar shift against his throat. He pulled his hand away hastily. “Can I come in?” 

“Did you forget something important?” Laurent stepped back from the door. 

“No, I... well yes.”

Closing the door behind him, Laurent turned to face him and raised his eyebrows –  _ get on with it. _

“I, uh. I wanted permission to take the collar off.” His face burned as he said it. How stupid did that sound? 

Laurent’s eyes widened, lips parting a little. Just for a moment, he looked shocked. “Oh.” He looked away quickly, shoulders visibly tight. “Of course,” he said, voice a little distant. “I know where the key is.” 

Damen nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He followed Laurent to his bedroom, and tried to ignore the wide, familiar bed as Laurent rummaged in his bedside table. He stared at the carpet instead. 

“Here.” Laurent turned and held out the small silver key on his palm. “Do you want... uh.” 

“It’ll... I think it’ll be easier if you do it.” He gestured at the clasp at the back of his neck. “I can’t really see it.” 

“Right. Ok.” Laurent nodded a little jerkily. “Turn around.” 

Damen obeyed, trying not to think about how familiar and comforting it was to follow Laurent’s orders. Closing his eyes he heard Laurent step up behind him. The light brush of his fingertips made the hairs stand on the back of Damen’s neck. 

He tried to control his breathing.  _ This isn’t a scene _ , Damen reminded himself.  _ This is real life, and you’re an adult who shouldn’t have had to ask your ex to do something so simple for you. Keep it together.  _

His heart was pounding in his throat and his eyes stung suspiciously. The least he could do was get through this without doing anything incredibly humiliating like crying. He breathed in and out slowly, fingers curled into fists at his sides. 

There was a soft snick and Damen felt the collar open. A hot, dizzy rush of adrenaline flooded through him, and he heard himself make a noise, almost a whimper. His hand flew to his throat, clutching at the collar and he accidentally caught one of Laurent’s hands in his as Laurent lifted the collar away. They both froze. 

Damen’s shoulders heaved as he tried to get himself under control. He’d half turned, looking at Laurent over his shoulder, who was looking back, wide-eyed. They stared at each other, both of them barely breathing. 

Damen had no idea what Laurent was seeing on his face, but he felt cracked open - vulnerable. He felt himself sag, and he said in voice that came out small and hoarse, "Are you sure we can't make this work?'

Laurent stared at him blankly, and he never had been able to read Laurent in their worst moments. Damen drew a deep breath, face hot. He opened his mouth to apologize – to turn and leave before he fucked it up any more.

Then Laurent swore, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and dragged him down to kiss him. 

“You fucking idiot,” he gasped between kisses, “You couldn’t have said that a week ago? Do you have any goddamn idea...?” 

Damen groaned and crushed their mouths together, arms tight around Laurent’s waist. “ _ Laurent _ . Laurent, Laurent, Laurent.” 

“Yes.” Laurent had dropped the collar – he had both hands tangled in Damen’s hair, yanking him down to kiss again and again. Damen’s lips felt bruised and hot, and he couldn’t stop. The familiar taste of his mouth, his smell, the warmth of his body pressed against Damen’s – Damen clutched Laurent close, trying to devour him with every sense. 

Laurent was edging them backward. Damen’s knees hit the bed and they toppled together into the sheets. They wrestled their clothes off until they were skin-to-skin, Damen pressing breathless, open-mouthed kisses to any part of Laurent he could reach as Laurent grabbed the lube from the bedside table and opened him up with two slick fingers. 

“On your knees,” he ordered. 

Damen groaned as Laurent pressed inside, relishing the burn, letting the pain ground him, urging Laurent fast and harder,  _ more _ . He wanted to feel it as deep as he could, needed to be close, closer. “Laurent,” he gasped over and over again. 

“You stupid brute,” Laurent panted in Damen’s ear. “Can’t use your fucking words.” His hips snapped hard into Damen’s ass. 

Damen grunted with each thrust, cock throbbing and leaking onto the sheets beneath him. “Please,” he managed. “Laurent. Please, sir.” 

Laurent growled and bit down on his shoulder. “Mine,” he whispered. “You’re mine.” 

Damen gasped, and came all over the bed. Laurent groaned as Damen clenched down around his cock, pressing in deep and going still as he spilled inside Damen, swearing softly. 

Damen turned his face into the damp sheets and panted, overwhelmed. He felt stripped raw and exposed. Laurent was warm behind him, collapsed against his back. 

After a long moment Laurent extracted himself and got up from the bed. Damen whined as Laurent’s softening cock slid out of him, feeling the slick trickle of come over his balls and down his thighs. 

The mattress dipped as Laurent sat back down, and he jumped at the touch of a cool, damp cloth between his legs. He roused himself enough to clean up, and then sat back against the headboard. The post orgasm lethargy was draining away, leaving something nervous and uncertain in his belly. 

“So,” he said. 

“So.” Laurent looked down at the towel in his hands, twisting it absently. “You changed your mind about breaking up.”

“Me? I didn’t want to break up.” 

Laurent snapped his gaze up to look at him. “I thought you didn’t want to do long distance.” 

Damen’s eyes widened. “I thought you didn’t want to wait for me. I thought it wasn’t serious!”

“Who said it wasn’t serious?” 

“I...” Damen closed his mouth. “I thought... everyone said you don’t do serious.” 

Laurent stared at him, and then threw the towel at Damen. It thwacked wetly against his shoulder. “Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “You idiot!” 

“I thought that was what you wanted!” Damen yelped. “I didn’t want to pressure you.” 

“You thought... what part of me  _ putting a permanent collar on you _ says  _ not serious _ to you? I thought you understood when I gave it to you.” 

“I.” Damen swallowed. “Um. I guess I didn’t.” 

Laurent sighed heavily, arms curling around Damen’s bare shoulders. “Don’t do that to me again,” he whispered, barely audible against his skin. 

Damen nodded, closing a hand around Laurent’s elbow, the closest part of him he could  reach. “Will you... put the collar back on?” 

He felt Laurent go still, breath hitching momentarily. After a moment he sat up. “Yes.” 

Damen levered himself upright in bed  as Laurent got up and retrieved the collar and key from where they had fallen. Laurent crawled back onto the bed and they sat facing each other, cross legged on top of the sheets, with the slim circle of gold between them. “This time,” Laurent said, “to be clear, the collar means we’re in a relationship. A  _ serious _ one,” he added, making a face. 

Flushing, Damen nodded. “I got that.” 

Laurent held up the collar, meeting his gaze. “You want that?” 

“Yes.  _ God _ , yes.” 

“Ask me nicely,” Laurent said, eyes narrowing a little. 

“Please, sir, please put the collar on me. I want to wear it.” Damen swallowed, throat tight. “I want to be yours.” 

Laurent leaned close, hair brushing Damen’s cheek as he settled the collar around his neck again. Damen closed his eyes as the collar clicked shut, and felt a rush of relief through him, like the familiar weight of the collar had lifted a heavier, invisible one from his back. He sighed, turning his head blindly to kiss Laurent. 

“There,” Laurent murmured against his lips. “Mine.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Coda-  
> Nik doesn't hear from Damen all day, and Damen isn't answering his texts, and finally Nik texts Laurent, _Have you seen Damen? He was going to visit you, if he's jumped off a bridge it's all your fault_. Laurent texts him back a photo of Damen asleep in bed with the collar on, smiling in his sleep.  
> Nik throws his phone across the room. 
> 
> Comments are love!  
> Follow me on tumblr at [ stillwaterseas](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/) or at my fandom blog [seas-of-ios](https://seas-of-ios.tumblr.com/)


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